Читать книгу Japanese Language - Haruhiko Kindaichi - Страница 17

2Occupational Differences

Military jargon

The differences existing within the Japanese language are largely regional and professional. One group famous for possessing a special jargon of its own was the old imperial army. The exclusive nature of armies is something international, and foreign armies also have special languages. A. M. Halpern, an American linguist who was once with the Civil Information and Education Section of the U.S. occupation forces, wrote in the magazine Shis no Kagaku (The Science of Thought)¹ for January 1949 about the singularity of American soldiers’ speech. Comparing it with kubo Tadatoshi’s article, “Japanese Soldiers’ Language,” in the same issue, I noted that American and Japanese soldiers’ speech differed greatly owing to the large number of slang words used by the Americans to refer to women as merely physical objects. This seemed to me like an amusingly correct assessment.

The Japanese army used military terms formulated by the state, which abhorred words of foreign origin and used Chinese character words or their Japanese translations exclusively. New recruits had a hard time learning how to use terms like henjka (lace boots)* and bukkanj (a drying place).^† At the Army Provisions Depot, kyarameru (caramel) was called gunrsei (essence of army food), spu (soup) was nkanj (thick meat and vegetable soup), raisukar (curried rice) was karamiiri shirukake meshi (rice with spicy gravy), and korokke (croquettes) was aburaage nikumanj (fried meatballs).²

Elements that are typical of military jargon can be found not only in vocabulary but also in grammar. The use of the de-arimasu style is, perhaps, most well known. In general, military expressions were conventional and lacked flexibility. The following account by Sakakura Atsuyoshi, a Japanese language scholar, conveys this characteristic very well.

When I was a new conscript we once went on field exercises. I wanted to tell a superior private something about the target: Itch hodo saki ni ikken’ya ga mieru desh? (About one ch beyond you can see a solitary house, can’t you?). But I could not express this in military language, no matter how hard I tried. I knew perfectly well that in military speech itch was yaku hyaku meitoru (about 100 meters), saki ni was zenp (ahead), ikken’ya was dokuritsu kaoku (an independent house). But I could not for the life of me express mieru desh (you can see . . . can’t you?) in de-arimasu style. Miemasu ka (Can you see?) could not be right, of course. Miemash (You see, don’t you?) would not likely be militaryspeech. After thinking of this and that, I finally realized thatexpressions of familiarity, which require another’s sympatheticresponse, simply could not be expressed in military jargon in the first place.³

The peculiarity of military terminology is due to the isolated nature of the military world. Similarly, there are many special terms maintained in Buddhist circles, and in gay society and the gambling world.

Offcial terminology

The following is a quotation from the writings of Japanese novelist Agawa Hiroyuki.

Try and look up in the Tky classified telephone book thenumbers for a secondhand bookstore, a subway station, andan air-gun shop. Subway station (chika-tetsu) will not be found in the index under chi, or under den (densha, electric car). You will have to look for it under the section Teito Ksokudo Kts Eidan (The Capital’s Rapid Transit Traffc Organization) of the column Tetsud Kidgy (Railroads and Tramways). Therefore,if one has left something behind in the subway train, the system is such that he cannot find the right telephone number quickly. It is the same with secondhand bookstore (furuhon-ya), which cannot be found under the fu of furu or the ho of hon-ya. You will have to look under koshoseki-sh (old-book dealers). Atpresent we don’t say in our daily conversation, “Let’s go into a koshoseki-sh” nor do we write in our diary even in literarystyle, “Today I dropped in at a koshoseki-sh in Kanda.” Such a word, even as a synonym, is almost obsolete. As for “air-gunshop” (kkijya), you will not find it under the ku of kkij or the te of tepp (gun). If you have time, please try look it up.⁴

There are many more terms of this type specially used by government offces. For example, what we ordinarily call rintaku (a bicycle taxi) is termed sekkyaku-y keishary (light vehicles for customers), and what we ordinarily call kuzuya (a waste-paper dealer) is called shigen kaish-in (resources recovery man).⁵

Railroad terms often come under attack, since they are in daily public use.

Fumikiri ichiji teishi.

Crossing temporarily closed—This makes one think: “What, is this crossing closed today?” (But the real meaning of this notice is: “Crossing! Stop for a moment before you proceed!”)

Ishitsubutsu o ssa itashimasu.

We shall search the carriage for lost articles—This makesone think: “Ishitsu? Why, you mean wasure mono (forgotten articles).’’

Ori nori wa ohayaku negaimasu.

Please be quick in getting off and getting on—This makes one think: “Then we’ll have to say yokin no ire dashi (the depositing and withdrawing of accounts), won’t we?”*

Shchakueki ni tchaku no jikoku wa jshichiji sanjippun de arimasu.

The time of arrival at the terminal station is 5:30 P.M.—This makes one think: “It’s enough to say, ‘We’ll arrive in saka at 5:30 P.M.,’ isn’t it?”

Kanamori Tokujir says that each government offce has an individual character of its own. In the period before the war, when we saw the phrase mune tsugi no yry ni yoru (In general according to the following outline) in an offcial document, we knew it was from military circles. If the phrase was Shokan o motte keij itashisr (We respectfully submit this in writing), it was a diplomatic document under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. If it was Koko ni naninani an o setsumei itashimasuru kei o ysuru node arimasu (Here I have the honor to explain the so-and-so draft), one could guess that it was most likely an address of the Minister of Finance at the Diet.⁶

Academic circles

It is often said that the language of scholars is too different from that of the public. It is true that a scholar should use precisely terms related to his special field of study, and for this reason technical terms are necessary. In comparison to Europe, however, scholarly terminology in Japan has gone to extremes.*

The philosopher Ikegami Kenz says in an essay that a Japanese, on reading a scholarly German book, noted the part title “Erster Teil” (Part One). He thought that this expression was used only as an abstruse technical term. But when traveling in Germany, he entered a vaudeville theater, and was surprised to be informed of the end of the “Erster Teil” during the intermission. This story reveals something about a Japanese scholar’s attitude toward “technical terms.”⁷

Among academic circles botanists do not usedifficult Chinese characters but rather such Yamato words as sumire (violet), tampopo (dandelion), and renges (Chinese milk vetch). This practice is well received. However, I cannot quite approve of their using scientific terms understood only among Japanese botanical circles and not internationally.

The commonly used kimpge (buttercup)—which I think excellent—was replaced by botanists with the bizarre uma no ashigata (literally, a horse’s footprints). It is said that the cyclamen which decorates spring display windows and whose roots are used as pig food has the technical name buta no manj (literally, a pig’s bean bun).

Waga yume wa	My dream
oirans no	Is like the fragrance
ka no gotoshi	Of the phlox—
ame fureba nure	It becomes moist in the rain,
kaze fukeba chiru.	And scatters in the wind.

—KITAHARA HAKUSH⁸

Oirans (phlox; literally, courtesan plant), the plant mentioned in the poem, is not so listed in Makino Tomitar’s Nippon Shokubutsu Zukan (A Japanese Plant Book),⁹ but is instead entered under some unimaginable name. Furthermore, according to Makino, the yellow flower that blooms on summer evenings and which we call tsukimis (evening primrose; literally, moon-viewing plant) is incorrectly named. The real tsukimis is a white flower.

In the academic world, the medical group is known for its use of the most troublesome words. This was especially true before the war. What ordinary people call mizubs (chicken-pox; literally, water smallpox) was called suit. Since this is short, we can bear it, but for otafuku kaze (mumps; literally, plump-faced cold), the name used in the medical world was kysei jikasen-en (acute parotid gland inflammation), which was very troublesome. The popular term mimikuso (earwax) was called teinei, and mushiba (decayed tooth; literally, worm-eaten tooth) was called ushi. Furthermore, kushami (sneezing) was written , and we wondered how in the world this was pronounced. According to Shimose Kentar, such unusual characters as were used for names of diseases. Some of these names read like the Chinese book Senjimon (A Thousand-Character Classic).¹⁰ Some examples are gakan kinky , kakuky hanch , shishi ketsurei , and donsan ss .* Some looked like Buddhist names for the deceased engraved on gravestones; for example, sentensei gyorinsen’ y khish .¹¹

Besides the above examples, there were many cases in which a technical term differed from one field to another. Uniformity has been established, but formerly the word meaning “constant” was js in mathematics and physics, ks in chemistry, teis in engineering, and fuhens in economics. An American educational delegation took this up and said in its report that it was a manifestation of sectionalism. In astronomy, it was also well known that Tky University used wakusei , while Kyto University used ysei for the same word—planet.

Footnotes

* Chinese reading of amiage-gutsu.

^†Chinese reading of monohoshiba.

*It is customary to say nori ori (getting on and off) not ori nori (getting off and on). In banks, however, we say dashi ire (withdrawing and depositing), not ire dashi (depositing and withdrawing).

*This was especially true before World War II.

*These are all Chinese character words which have no meaning in Japanese. Yamato names of flowers and diseases have meanings such as “moon-viewing grass” and “plump-faced cold” that are easy to remember.